Intervention of Ana
by MandiRei
Summary: When Ana's blinders fall off regards to Christian's abusive quirks gained from Elena's harsh tutelage, Taylor provides a strong shoulder to lean on and wisdom of how to live a Christian-free life. Ana makes good her escape, living a new life with a respectful man. [ a psychological look at the sub-context of canon. Not typical HEA/Au/OOC, but at least she's happy, right? Right?]
1. Author's Note

**AUTHOR'S NOTE TO READERS [edited 6/17/14]**

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Well, hello there.

I see you clicked on my story and instead of diving into an AU experiment starring Ana and Christian, you're reading this. There is a reason I have to write this preface, and I'm going to spell it out for all and sundry and hopefully, the PMs will slow down because concerns have already been addressed here. This contains snippets of blog posts I've made addressing the issues, as well as choice bits of PMs. Also, there is an FAQ on my profile which covers many of the concerns listed here.** This story was originally published here on FF back in 2012.** I took it down, altered it a bit, and self-pubbed since out of the many reviews I received, vast majority were positive in nature. The few negative ones did not deter me then, nor will they as I substantially rewrite this story and work in more of the canon, ultimately taking it in another direction altogether. That said, the original incarnation of Chapter One was picked up by a women's shelter in Cardiff, Wales and is used to help illustrate the power of perception when it comes to abuse. I am proud of that my writing has been used to help educate on the subject of domestic violence. That is my carrot on a string when it comes to getting this story out.

Ahem.

First off, everyone is entitled to their opinion. Your opinion of Grey is as valid as my own even though you and I may not see eye-to-eye. I don't think I'm going to change the mind of someone looking for their own Grey. I am simply explaining why I chose to address the story in this not-very-pleasant manner. The mark of ignorance is the inability to entertain someone else's perspective without agreeing- and trust me, I had to entertain a point of view different from my own to get through EL James' tale. I am sincerely hoping that you, kind reader, are an open minded sort, because that will make this so much more productive._** As you can see in the description of my tale, it's a study in the sub-context I am addressing. That is no secret, and please don't waste your time telling me I made Grey into an abusive dickhead. I am positive there are other stories you'd find more enjoyable than me busting out a treatise on society-accepted violence. Not every love story has a HEA, and that's a fact of life I echo in my writing.** _I'm going off the sub-context I picked up as I trudged through that literary quagmire- how often does Ana worry that she upset Grey whenever she opens her mouth? How many times are there tears involved? Bruises she didn't consent to? Threats to rape her in public (over her biting her lip) and breaking into her apartment without knowledge from her or her roommate? How many times does she basically tell him to back off and yet he ultimately doesn't? These are not aspects of a healthy relationship.

One cannot heal another with love; that is a fairy tale falsehood of co-dependence. Happiness comes from within and the right partner helps it shine brighter. One can provide a healing environment; considering Grey controls everything, it's safe to assume he controls the environment, thus it isn't Ana who is helping him heal. She does learn to manage his moods by walking on eggshells when it comes to certain topics; that is not a marker of a healthy relationship.

Yes, I read FSoG. I did not like it. I found it to be triggering and a glorification of my own experience of domestic abuse at the hands of my boyfriend-turned-husband. I found it disturbing that the protagonist, Ana, lacks so much world experience when compared to Grey who then holds her lack of experience against her, and she has to appeal to an imaginary authority figure, her Inner Goddess - which made me wonder if Ana has some sort of mental illness? Why else would her should-be-invisible Subconscious and Inner Goddess waltz around between Ana's ears? "Normal" people tend to think in terms of 'I can do this' rather than "My Inner Goddess gave me a thumbs up," if you get my drift. Is this a commentary from James about the maturity level Ana exhibits, where Ana is unable to take responsibility for her own thoughts/actions, pawning decision making to invisible friends?

Having been in an abusive relationship, I'm calling Grey's actions for what they are. Take away his looks and money and he doesn't have much to recommend him, in my opinion, for a long-term relationship. Had he not been adopted into a wealthy family and instead bounced around foster homes, odds are that he would have spent time in jail by now. His stalking and manipulation show that he is far from healed, needs a new therapist and to find happiness for himself rather than collecting subs who bear a resemblance to his mother. **The psychological aspects of Grey mirrors a Pacific Northwest serial killer, Robert Lee Yates.** I find that interesting; give Yates good looks and money and you'd have Christian Grey on your hands. I find that fascinating, really. Could it be a witty social commentary by EL James, of a society's acceptance of abuse and willingness to look the other way? A slightly different take on Kitty Genovese?

I realize that the tawdry bits in FSoG were definitely eyebrow-raising considering what was the commercial norm before the erotica acceptance. **However, I gotta say as someone who dabbled in the lifestyle for a few years, I cringe when I got to the bits where Grey demonstrates his dominate style-especially outside the bedroom.** Safe, sane, and consensual, it was not. Got no problem with kinky fun. But the parts that concerned me most were his attitudes outside "playtime" and how he put Ana under surveillance 24/7 and did not adhere to the boundaries she set. Her opinion doesn't seem to matter much to him. He may acknowledge her concern, but then he blows it off and does what he wants instead (for example, her car. Why did he buy her a new car he won't let her drive?) I also have a problem with stalking, intimidation, coercion, not taking NO for an answer, victim blaming, and other forms of random douche-baggery.

**One can see different things when they read for pleasure versus reading with a critical eye.** Those who read for pleasure don't catch things, they aren't looking for the sub-context, only what the writer had the narrator (Ana being an unreliable narrator) remark upon, colored with the narrator's perspective. Ana is sheltered and Ana does not understand what constitutes domestic violence. I know I didn't, I assumed getting hit was 'domestic violence,' not the put-downs or threats. But those too, are abuse.

I can understand if you got swept up in the story, but in a clinical setting, a lot of the behaviors exhibited are considered serious markers for an abuser. Grey is a manipulator. Ana never signed the contract, and Grey still acts as if she did.** The man stalked a woman 3000 miles when she stated she needed space and he hadn't even known her a month.** That's scary, not romantic. He enters her apartment without Ana or Kate's knowledge or consent, hits and rapes Ana. She wasn't into it and basically says, "Oh, at least it wasn't _that_ bad." Grey should have involved the police when Leila started doing her thing. By keeping it on the down-low, he enabled a mentally ill person and chucked her in an art school rather a psychiatric ward where her needs could be addressed.

You are absolutely entitled to your opinion about Christian Grey- I will not argue that. But to me, he's the better looking twin to the man I married and who told me he knew where he'd hide my body. I'm not going to be quiet about that. Abusers thrive in silence, and I'll be making some noise for educational purposes. Maybe someone will read this story and see them self in AnaMaria, and know they too can escape an abusive/manipulative relationship. That is why I am writing this.

Once upon a time I was Ana. No more.

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** On the topic of Grey and his mother...**

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_Oedipus by Proxy._

Christian Grey openly admits he prefers subs who resemble his "crack whore mother" i.e. brown hair, blue eyes. He beats them because he cannot beat his mother as punishment for leaving him as a child. Why else would he choose women to beat that bear a physical resemblance to his mother? Since she's dead, he can't take his anger out on her. So all those poor women who have the genetic misfortune of brown hair and blue eyes are taking the lumps for her; I'm convinced Grey hasn't told his therapist about it, or else his "therapist" is a quack who is awesome at writing prescriptions for narcotics.

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**ON THE TOPIC OF ABUSIVE RELATIONSHIPS**

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The following was taken from Jenny Trout's blog, because she is wondrously eloquent and awesome. jennytrout dot com slash ?p=3007

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The following "red flags" are from a hand out entitled "Universal Red Flags" taken from a book called _How To Spot A Dangerous Man_. The instructions read: "Check all the following that apply even if only remotely". Let me share the ones I checked on Ana's behalf:

_**You feel uncomfortable about something he has said or done, and the feeling remains. **_I don't think we need to cite any one particular incident where Ana has been made uncomfortable by Christian Grey. This is prevalent throughout the book.

_**You wish he would go away, you want to cry, and you want to run away from him. **_Ana often thinks about how she can "escape" Christian, how she needs to find an exit, how she can't handle being around him because she can't trust herself to think clearly. In just the portion of the book we've reviewed so far, Ana has ended three of her encounters with Christian as a sobbing mess.

_**You have the urge to "love him into emotional wellness," if that were possible**_. Again, based on the chapters we've reviewed here so far, Ana does seem to believe that she can change him, or that he has psychological wounds that need to be healed.

_**You feel bad about yourself when you are around him.**_ One of the clearest indicators, to me, anyway, that there is a power imbalance in their relationship is the fact that Ana constantly compares herself – how she looks, how she acts, how she's dressed – to Christian and his very wealthy lifestyle, and she always finds herself lacking. She often wonders why he's interested in her.

_**You only feel good about yourself when you are with him.**_ Conversely, Ana doesn't have a nice word to say about herself unless it is confirmed by Christian. When her roommate tells her that she's pretty, Ana interprets it as a patronizing compliment Kate can't possibly mean, but when Christian Grey calls Ana beautiful, she suddenly believes that she is. In fact, the only time she believes anything good about herself is when it's Christian pointing it out.

_**You feel that he wants too much from you**_. I think this one requires very little explanation. Not only does he want more than she wishes to give, he constantly pressures her to give him what he wants.

**_You are emotionally tired from him; you feel he "sucks the life out of you_****.****_"_**Now, Ana never says, "he sucks the life out of me." But again, even if we just look at the first half of this book, she's doing a lot of crying herself to sleep, needing to get away from him because he's too intense, etc.

_**Your value system and his are very different, and it's problematic**_. I have this phrase I trot out from time to time with my friends who are dating: If you have to "work on" the relationship within the first month, it's not going to work out. Sometimes, people are simply incompatible. Ana and Christian have spent most of their relationship with Ana trying to find ways around giving Christian what he wants, and Christian refusing to bend on his expectations. This is not going to clear up in a few more dates.

_**Your past and his are very different, and the two of you have conflicts over it.**_ Spoiler alert, Christian is obsessive and controlling about food because he went hungry as a child. I know we haven't gotten to that part of the book in the review yet, but it fits in here. And that's just one of the ways their pasts differ in problematic ways. While Ana sees his earlier relationship with a much older woman as statutory rape, Christian believes that it was appropriate and has a continuing friendship with the woman, which makes Ana uncomfortable. Ana doesn't even want the type of relationship Christian is after, they both are aware of this fact, and he continues to pursue her.

_**You tell your friends you are "unsure about the relationship"**_ Ana has already had this conversation with Kate in the part we've reviewed.

_**You feel isolated from other relationships with friends and family**_. Ana doesn't just_feel_ isolated, she is isolated, by the nondisclosure agreement Christian asked her to sign. She finds herself living a double life in order to please Christian and still maintain her relationships with her loved ones.

_**You feel in the wrong because he is always right and goes to great lengths to show you he is right.**_ This was most obviously displayed in chapter fourteen, where Christian responds to all of Ana's concerns and questions with long explanations that dance around actual answers.

_**You are uncomfortable because he continually says he knows what is best for you.**_ He isn't pressuring her into signing a contract that allows him to act out his sexual fantasies on her for _him_. It's all about her, and her happiness. He just wants what's best for her, just like when he showed up at the bar when she asked him not to, and his concerns about her car.

_**You notice he needs you too frequently, too much, or too intensely**_. Christian goes so far as to say that he wants her too much, or that he can't control himself in her presence because of the intensity of his passion for her.

_**You notice he quickly discloses information about his past or present or his emotional pain. **_After they go out for coffee, their first encounter that is not tied to the interview, he warns her off from him with cryptic, tortured statements like, "I'm not the man for you."

_**You sense he is pushing too quickly for an emotional connection with you.**_ Okay, this one, Ana wouldn't check off, but I would. From an outside observer standpoint, Christian is running a very good game of "pull her in, push her away," which is forcing an emotional connection with Ana. After having coffee with the guy once, she's on the floor of a parking garage sobbing. This isn't just Ana being emotionally immature, it's Ana being emotionally manipulated by Christian.

_**You find yourself accepting him "for now" even though you have plenty of red flags that would help you to terminate the relationship if you paid attention to them**_. Ana is already aware that what she wants from the relationship and what Christian wants are two vastly different, completely incompatible things, but she commits to the relationship despite knowing it has no hope of a future.

These weren't all the entries on the list, but some of the questions regarding previous children or substance abuse obviously don't apply to Mr. Grey. Looking over what we have here, is this a healthy relationship? Can we even consider this to be a romance novel, with all of these elements in place?

However, we've seen ample evidence of women saying they would prefer their husbands to behave more like Christian Grey. Others say that obviously, they wouldn't want Christian Grey in real life, but it's the _fantasy_ they're enjoying. What fantasy? I fully support fantasizing about a man who takes control in the bedroom. I cannot, for the life of me, understand how it would be enjoyable to fantasize about a man who takes control in all aspects of your life. And remember, I'm not talking about just a BDSM lifestyle here. I'm talking about the measures Christian takes to control Ana's life before they even enter into a relationship together.

For an insightful look on the topic, check out Jenny Trout dot com slash question mark p=934

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For those open minded readers I haven't scared off yet, I have some questions I'd love to have your opinion on. Please, if you feel inclined, let me know what you think. I do appreciate the feedback (unless it's patronizing and disrespectful) and it helps me to understand everybody's point of view better. [ More questions may be added at a later time ]

a) Would Ana still be into Grey if he was not a billionaire? Let's say he worked at Best Buy or KMart- same personality, same looks (perhaps not as "polished" because lack of funds and not owning salons) and elitist attitude, but just a bloke who lives in his mom's basement and Charlie Tango is just an El Dorado. Would he have the same appeal to fresh-out-of-college Ana?

b) If a Dom has demonstrated sub drop more than once, does that qualify him as a knowledgeable and empathetic Dom?

c) How many unhealthy behaviors is it acceptable to deal with when it comes to building a foundation for a new romantic relationship? If your partner makes decisions you have to abide by, would you want your opinion to be considered just as valid as your partners?

d) Do you think Grey adequately described the BDSM lifestyle to Ana so she could make an educated decision on the topic?

e) Is it appropriate for someone who was given permission for a single type of consensual violence (i.e. a spanking) to threaten or intimidate the person on the receiving end when the receiver had a negative reaction to the experience?

I thank you for your time and wish you happy reading.

-M R S


	2. Chapter 1

I looked in the mirror, taking in my lank hair and the dark circles under my eyes. I always ragged on my looks, but now, those rants were justified, if pre-emptive. I tilted my chin up and noticed red finger marks on my throat.

"Bitch," my Inner Bitch Goddess crooned, "we need to talk." She tapped her foot and wore a sneer. Was she mad at me? What did I do this time?

Oh no, here it comes. The Inner Bitch Goddess inquisition. She rarely addressed me as such, but when bitch flies from her imaginary mouth, I know I need to pay attention.

"Remember on your honeymoon, you did like everyone else on that European beach and took off your top. He bruised you so you couldn't do that again. That was after he made a huge scene. He was worried about the paparazzi? Why carry on like a spoiled toddler then? And go on to bruise you as punishment? Excessive, don't you think?"

"They were hickies!" I retorted. Surely she couldn't forget that he was buried nut-deep in me when he branded me as his. I enjoyed that he liked fucking me, because that means he's not having sex with another, especially one of the evil blondes he always employs.

"They were bruises! He punished you for exercising your free will. That on your neck right now, those aren't hickies. He grabbed you because you were walking away during an argument. Remember how ugly your wrists looked? How embarrassed you were that the jewelry store sales associate saw them? She knew Christian was bribing you into compliance. Some sparkly stuff to hide the marks, and you won't squeal."

"Shut up, you! Drink some tea, why don't you?" Choke on it, too.

"Take your own advice and don't let your husband get you drunk. You cannot trust him."

"Why are you being this way?" I wailed at the mirror, willing the voice inside my head to just shut up with the logic. Logic requires thinking, and Christian hates it when I think and do things I see as justified.

"Because your husband scares me. He scares you."

"Only when he gets mad," I replied. When I mind my P's and Q's, Christian buys me stuff. It's so hard for him to tell me how he feels, so I just know when he spends his hard-earned money on me, that's how I know he loves me. He wouldn't spoil me if he didn't care. Doesn't my Inner Bitch Goddess know this?

"So you walk on eggshells to make sure you don't provoke him. That's true love, there, sweetie. Wonder if Belle ever thought the Beast would go postal and beat her because he couldn't control himself?"

"I do love him! He's wonderful, beautiful and named his own helicopter! How many people have helicopters, let alone ones with an actual name? We vacationed on a boat. Don't you know that's magic only the wealthy and Leprechauns can buy?"

"You don't love him. You have no experience in life, never lived on your own, and right out of college you get into an abusive relationship with someone who uses you. Uses you and keeps you around because he knows you won't run. You're too scared. He found himself a victim, a toy. And he married it, so no one else can play with you."

"I married him, I can't be scared of someone I married. Sheesh!" I tried to believe what I said. Maybe if I keep repeating myself...

"You married him because he manipulated you like a puppet. Made you think he died in a helicopter crash. Hell, he never once called the cops on his stalker ex who bathed in your tub, who bought a gun and chased you around. That's love, there. He doesn't care about you, just how you make him look."

"That's because Taylor is there to protect us, that why the police weren't involved."

"Yeah, Taylor did a great job when Christian's ex sub stood at the foot of your bed and stared at you. Remember that?"

I tried not to. Hated thinking about the other women who served my husband.

Those _hussies_.

"Listen, Ana. You are me, and I am you, and you aren't this spineless. You were just in awe of hormones and what money can buy, although you pretend otherwise. Christian is poison. One day, you'll piss him off just a bit too much. Who knows what will happen. Maybe you'll be committed to a psychiatric hospital or end up being a Natalie Wood-style front page headline. Missing, in a helicopter crash."

I didn't want to admit it, least of all to my Inner Bitch Goddess, that maybe she was right. The more I thought about all the circumstances which resulted in emotions overwhelming me because of Christian, I realized I'd been on a roller coast of his making. He cost me my career. Drove away what little family I had by his elitist attitude. Kate, the closest thing to a friend I have, initially had her reservations about him, but I told her everything was okay. I mean, I lied through my teeth and put on a stiff-upper lip because I couldn't tell her everything. What she does know of him, only tip of the iceberg.

Steadily, I studied the face reflecting back at me from the silver-backed glass. My eyes, terribly red. If I were a middle-aged British woman with a penchant for bad analogies, I'd compare myself to the Communist Manifesto.

Sigh.

"Ana, get your head on straight. Do you really want a lifetime of looking in the mirror, seeing the bruises and angst Christian inflicts on you? You deserve better."

"Shut up!" I screamed, not caring that Christian might hear me over his piano-playing.

"The only way I'll shut up is when you get away or he kills us, which ever happens first." The Inner Bitch would not let up.

"I'll never leave him. He loves me." There! If I say it enough, I'll really believe it.

"Then I'll never shut up. Every time you see yourself, you'll see me hiding in your eyes. I'll build up to the point where you break free or you commit suicide, because living in constant fear is _not_ love. If Christian really loved you, he would accept you are a grown woman, capable of making your own choices. He wouldn't hound you to eat, order you on birth control, buy your place of employment to keep tabs on you, nor would he risk your life at the hands of someone mentally unstable, I mean aside from him. The man doesn't care about you, just what you do for him. You give him a sense of normalcy, but in all honesty, Ana, Christian shouldn't have to depend on you for happiness nor you on him. As long as you are in that cycle of shit, I'll be here raining on your parade. Pull your head out of your ass, Ana. What Christian says and what he does are two different things. You're done being fooled, you're done being strung along on an emotional ride with no end in sight. Hit the brakes and get off this tour-bus to Hell."

I bit my lip, glad my husband wasn't here to see my impertinent gesture. "I don't know how to get free. He controls everything I do, everything I see, everywhere I go." His presence covered me, like a midnight black cloak of terror. He found me at a bar by tracing my phone. He could make me disappear, just as easy.

My Inner Bitch Goddess took things down a notch. "There is help, we just need to find a way to get it. Hotlines and websites. Even if you're out shopping, you can use a payphone to call and get help. He might find out, but you know what? If it's not one thing, it'll be another to send him off the deep end. We both know it. Do you want your children thinking it's okay to treat people like mindless property? To coerce and bully to get one's way?"

"No...!" I wailed. I didn't want my children to be afraid of their father's temper. If he could bruise me so easily, what would he do with kids who test boundaries?

"Get out of this marriage, Ana. You aren't alone, I'm here." My Inner Bitch Goddess smiled, encouraging me to take the initiative and set myself free, kinda like that Paul Simon song.

"You are me and I am you," I replied back. With an inner core of strength, I could find focus and find a way out of my quagmire. I mean, I met and married a bajillionaire in less than six months. If I could do that, I can get away from him in half the time.

"Exactly. I'm going nowhere. May I offer one more bit of advice?"

"Sure," I replied. She'll talk no matter what. Might as well get her say out, so we could move on to hatching a plan for escape.

My Inner Bitch Goddess cleared her throat and peered over her pink-tinted cats-eye glasses. "Stop listening to your Inner Goddess. She's a stupid twat who put you in this mess. Seriously, gag and stow her. She's not the one who got beaten with a belt."


	3. Chapter 2

"AnaMaria," my husband called from the bedroom. "I want to talk." His voice gave no option but to do as requested or face the consequences of doing what I wanted.

Immediately, the muscles in my legs felt leaden, heavy. My shoulders tensed, and my breathing quickened into shallow breathes. Those words of his, while spoken kindly, didn't do much to allay the whirlwind of thought my Inner Bitch Goddess unleashed. Maybe she was wrong, and Christopher Christian Manson, business mogul that he was, truly wasn't an abusive husband. Maybe.

Hickies aren't bruises- not from a fist, not like I got hit. Striking a woman, that's abuse. My Inner Goddess appeared and did a little cheerleader routine to keep me on this train of thought. Inner Bitch Goddess threw The Complete Works of William Shakespeare on the ground with a huge thud, prompting Inner Goddess into hiding after sticking her tongue out. At times, I wish they would both disappear. Is it normal to have goddesses live inside one's brain?

"Coming, Christian." Sometimes I wished he'd relax enough to be called Chris, and not by his middle name. Such a mouthful, sometimes. If he can call me Ana, why can I not call him by a shortened name? Sigh. I left the bathroom after splashing cold water on my face, and walked to him with my head bowed down. He always was nicer when I seemed sorry for causing him to hurt me. The more subservient I appeared, the more likely he'll take it down a notch. That was the first lesson I learned for dealing with him.

Christian lifted my chin and looked in my eyes. "Ah, my beautiful, sweet, brave girl. I'm sorry I did that," as he spoke, he let his fingers drift over the red marks on my neck. "But when I tell you how things are, the matter is done for discussion. No arguments. You should know better by now."

I tried not to heave an impatient sigh. "All I wanted to do is hit the mall, like I used to. Personal shoppers are swell and all, but sometimes a girl wants to get hands-on in the bargain bin." Sometimes, levity works on him. If I could keep him from getting angry, then I don't have to worry about his reactions.

His eyes darkened and lips parted as he replied, "You are my wife now, Ana. You can't expect to live an out-moded life of an average person. That is not who you are."

My eyebrows danced a moment as I tried to wrap my mind around his statement. "When malls no longer exist is when I'll consider them outmoded. What's so wrong with me choosing my own clothes and getting some _me_ time?" He fell in love with me, being an average person. Now that's not okay? I kinda resented the sensation of being a dog on a leash, although no physical barrier really held me back. Just the menace emanating from Christian's gaze kept me in check.

Christian shook his head with vigor, as if the motions further bolstered his statement. "You don't have to make those choices, Ana. You're beyond that. You're mine and I'll take care of you in every way. You don't need _you_ time, you need _us_ time."

"That's sweet, Christian." And stifling. I put my hand on his arm and looked up into that statuesque face. "Can't I go incognito and pretend to be one of the plebeians? A non-Halloween Halloween of sorts? No candy, just clothes."

"No sexy costumes." Christian cracked a small smile, which fed the fires of my hope. An idea came to me. Dare I be so bold as to ask such a thing from my husband? Would he agree? There was but only one way to find out. Slowly I drew in a deep breath of air, hoping it'd clear the cobwebs of intimidation from my mind. I had to do this.

I was about to bite my lip in vexation when my Inner Bitch Goddess put a hand on my shoulder and squeezed some reassuring courage into my body. "I was wondering if we could acquire a female bodyguard, so I could go shopping myself and you won't have to worry about little ol' me." I waited on bated breath for his reply.

Slowly, Christian began to nod. "I like that idea. It will free Taylor up for other things. I'd hate for him to follow you into a department store changing room to make sure you're safe."

I tried to hide my giddiness. "May I interview the applicants? Privately?" If I can ask them questions, maybe I can find one whose loyalty will be mine, not Christian's. I need someone I can trust, someone who isn't already a part of Christian's minions and informants.

"Why privately?" The tone of Christian's voice deepened grew serious. I quelled at the thought of him getting wind of my plan.

Inner Bitch Goddess gave me a thumb up. "Girl talk. Periods, blood clots, bloating, stuff like that. And when I say blood clots, I mean the type that stick to maxi pads, not the type Taylor gets when he takes a bullet. PMS, PMDD, PTSD, you know, just girl stuff. Unless you want to discuss the benefits of Tampax over Kotex? Or the Luna Cup. That's a little silicone collection cup that covers the cervix and is safer for the environment when compared to common menstruation products. Maybe I'll find someone with knowledge in that department."

Christian's look of disgust spelled out his feelings. He wouldn't wish tampon talk on another male. "Sounds fair."

My Inner Bitch Goddess smirked. Men generally hate chunky lady-bits blood.

"So I can have a bodyguard for my very own?" Batted my eyes and plead as sweetly as I could.

"Yes, and only the best for you. You are like a beautiful jewel which must be guarded, cherished."

"I just want to be me, Christian. Inept, clumsy, me." I took a step away from the power emanating from my husband for a breather. Whenever he neared, I can't think. Part of me goes stupid because the man looks like a statue, perfect in every proportion. The other part gets freaked, because Christian doesn't like people not going along with his decrees. A part of me missed hanging out with Kate in our apartment, cramming for finals. The stress of testing goes away. Not so much when it comes to Christian.

"You aren't inept, except when you don't listen to me. Then I have to make you listen." He gave a small smile to soften the blow. 'Making me listen' usually involves him grabbing an arm and getting in my face.

I suppressed my frown. "Could I go shopping with Taylor to pick up some turtlenecks? I don't have any scarves to cover this." Let Christian take another look at the finger marks he left on me. Let him see what his anger did.

He didn't bother to look. "Yes, take Taylor. He drives, though."

"Why did you buy me a car you won't let me drive?" That truly puzzled me. Why replace Wanda when I can't even drive the nameless beast he gave me? It's the control freak attitude which really grates on my nerves. If I tried pulling the same stunt with Christian, it'd fly like a lead brick.

"Because you are mine. Body and soul. I will never let you go, Ana. I never give up on that which I consider mine."

My heart sank. To be loved, is a wonderful thing. But people need space to breathe, and I feel like I'm gasping at the last lungful of oxygen before my head goes under for good.

Getting a female bodyguard can't happen too soon.


	4. Chapter 3

I tried not resenting the fact that Taylor gets to drive the car my husband bought me to replace Wanda, my old VW Beetle. My Inner Bitch Goddess had no such qualms about stewing in the "AnaMaria Gets Treated Like An Imbecile" soup. At her behest I asked Taylor, "Can we pull over? I want to drive."

Taylor cleared his throat and looked uncomfortable at my request. His military precision with handling the car seemed interrupted by the tiny swerve he made when the question sunk into his brain. "I am under orders from Mr. Manson to be the only driver." His gruff voice seemed small within the confines of the car as we drove down 202, one of the veins of Redmond, Washington.

Clearing my throat to give me a moment to form a response. "My husband bought this car for me. To replace the one he had _you_ sell. I drove that car all the time without maiming or killing anyone. Why the hell won't he let me drive _my car?_" The last sentence was uttered as a rhetorical question. Didn't think Taylor would answer, at any rate.

When Taylor did reply, his words didn't cease to amaze. "Just between you, me, and the steering wheel, he won't let you drive because you aren't submissive enough to suit him. Compared to his playmates in the past, you've got a backbone that needs some bending. You want to drive? Then learn to wear the mask he wants to see as you." He then frowned. "If the boss knew I said that, my ass would be without a job."

I understood what he meant. "I won't tell him. You have my word."

Taylor gave a short nod of his clean-shaven head. "I don't mean to get into you or the boss's business, but _I hear things_. Not things I'm comfortable with. I get paid for my compliance of his orders- it's generally straight forward. If you don't mind me saying, the ladies before you were of a different sort. They knew his game and could play along for shits and giggles. You... you aren't that kind of person. I may be his employee, and there's not a lot I can do without losing my job and getting blacklisted. I will do what I can, but I can't make promises. I got a daughter to support, and I need this job."

Although he didn't say anything of the like, the tone Taylor used made me think my husband somehow has Taylor's family under his thumb. It wouldn't be out of character for Christian to use any means at his disposal to keep someone in line. As the treed cityline of Redmond passed by the windows, I repsonded, "I asked him if I could have my own body guard and companion. That way I don't have to drag you shopping with me since I can't even shop alone." I heaved a sigh of irritation, and my Inner Bitch Goddess patted me on the shoulder. Her eyes, an imagined manifestation of my own, glimmered with a plan. Taylor said as well as he could that he'd help a little in regards to dealing with my husband. Might as well put it to the test. "You would know this sort of thing. What are the top personal security companies, and what should I look for when it comes to picking one out?"

"You need to look at this tactically, Mrs. Manson. You need someone with skills. A military background is best- they got all sorts of special survival training. Make sure your prospective companion is open to teaching you some self-defense- you never know when you're going to need that." _With your husband _went unsaid. Before I could speak, Taylor carried on. "Top company in the business is Xerxes, Inc. Anyone hired from NosNam is already an employee of Manson Industries. That's a little umbrella entity of his. So, if he suggests someone from there, pass it by if you can."

What I found amazing about this conversation other than Taylor showing me a side of him I never knew, was his willingness to help me get around my husband's controlling nature. Granted, this came at a cost of not causing Taylor to lose his job, but I could respect that. If my only ally in the house against my husband is the man paid to keep my husband out of trouble, then fine. As much as my shopping outing has surprised me, I found it inspiring, nay, empowering to know that when in those walls, at least someone gave a crap about me.

Taylor drove to Redmond Town Center, which is as mall-like as one can get. I smiled. "I am so tempted to not hit the department store and just go window shopping."

He shrugged his broad shoulders and smiled. "Frankly, Mrs. Manson, if you want to wander around, feel free. I want to go get some gifts for my daughter. Do whatever shopping you like and we can reconvene at the food court in about eighty minutes, if that's okay with you."

Okay with me? I've been craving some me time. At least Taylor understood. "This isn't something my husband can find out about, is it?" My mind flew at what the possible consequences could be, nothing good for certain.

Taylor shook his head. "No. Unless he's had the car followed, then it's unlikely he'll find out. He trusts me implicitly." He parked the car and got out. Opened my door for me, and shut it once I vacated the vehicle. The alarm beeped as he armed it via key chain remote, and we walked into the shopping center. He turned right, toward Uncle's Games and I headed to Ann Taylor. I didn't care that my husband viewed anything bought at a mall as being inappropriate for his wife to wear, being that it was mass-manufactured with the potential of orphaned textile-worker children's tears woven into the fabric's weft. I think it was the mass-manufactured part that bothered him most.

Wealth has its place, I'd be a hypocrite to say that it doesn't buy certain happiness. But I'm not the kind of person who'd get all hung up over an oxford shirt hand sewn in Paris versus one made on an industrial sewing machine. Ann Taylor had what I needed, and I found a selection of sheer scarves and a few turtle neck shirts to cover the bruises on my neck left by my loving husband. Paid and left the store with plenty of time before the food court rendezvous. While I was contemplating getting a pretzel from Auntie Anne's, I heard a voice from behind me call out my name.

"AnaMaria?"

I turned around and saw Jorge, his camera ever in hand. "Oh hi. Long time, no see." I offered a smile to go with my words.

He gave a brief grin, revealing his even white teeth. "Well, I would have apologized to you before, if I thought your husband would allow me five minutes of your time without him evesdropping. He hiding behind one of the mall maps?"

I felt blood rush to my face. "No, he's not here to the best of my knowledge. Just his bodyguard who is giving me some time alone."

"That bad, huh?"

I didn't want to meet Jorge's sherry-tinted gaze. He'd known me for years, known me through scrapes of the skin and soul. Considering how things went last time he and Christian were in a room together, advertising my angst would not be an intelligent move. Neither men need a reason to hate each other more. Assuming that's even possible.

"I just missed shopping like everyone else. He may enjoy the prestige of a personal shopper, but I still like having a say in what I wear." This was said while I focused on the tip of his nose, thereby avoiding his gaze.

"Whatever you gotta tell yourself, Ana. If you need a friend, you have my number."

"I couldn't call you if I wanted, Jorge. He keeps a watch on my electronics. He knows the exact amount of texts I've sent Kate in the past six months." I could feel the frown building on my face.

I could see the frown growing on my old friend's face. "Stay here. I'll be back in like, ten minutes." And he boldly strode down the wide, air conditioned corridor linking the stores. So I meandered over to a bench set by some potted plants and waited. Watched kids tugging at their parent's hands, girls walking with a pack of their friends, teenaged boys in skater gear, all meandering about in conversation. True to his word, Jorge shortly returned with a RadioShack bag in one hand and a cell phone in the other.

"Here. Your very own phone. Private number. I already plugged in my phone number under 'Aunt Jilly' that way he won't get as upset as if it had my name."

"I'll try not to make sure he doesn't find it. Aunt Jilly, eh? Well, good to know I have long lost family."

"In more ways than one, AnaMaria. Never forget it."


	5. Chapter 4

With the cell phone Jorge gave me tucked into my bra, I wandered around the mall in a haze of anxiety. What if Christian had others watching me? What if they report that I have contraband, given to me by not just a man, _but Jorge?_ Hell would break out. Things would get ugly. Very, very ugly for all involved. _Especially me_. With a knot of fear growing in my throat, my Inner Bitch Goddess made an appearance and said, "Honey, this is a good thing. Mister Moolah can't trace this phone. You didn't buy it, there's no evidence for your dickhead to get all rawr that you exerted independence. Revel in your secret."

As reassuring as the words were meant, the gadget tucked into my bra could be the equivalent of a noose made for my neck. On the other hand, this cell is a lifeline. I'd need to devise a way to hide it, but I wanted to keep it. No knowing when I'd need it, and if I could get away, it'd come way handy. My mind made up, I went to a novelty store and searched for what I suspected would be in stock- a book safe. Tucked away on my bookshelf, it'd be camouflaged among all my reading material. Finding what I searched for, I decided to hit a bookstore, so that my new hidey-hole would not stand out so much. Maybe find another dust jacket, boring and unappealing to my husband should he get an itching to read something other than business reports or Backpage for once.

Didn't take long, and I was soon laden down with half a dozen books, ranging from Shakespeare to Tolstoy. I tossed the plastic bag from the novelty shop into recycling after moving the book to the bookstore bag. My loot in hand, I searched the food court for Taylor. He sat at a little table, several bags taking up elbow space. He noticed me, stood and collected his sacked- booty. I waited on the outskirts of food court table-maze for he to reach me. Behind him, I saw Jorge's profile as he stood in line to get some grub. As I turned, so did Jorge, and I caught a thumbs up before he moved out of my peripheral view. A heavy sigh locked in my chest, I turned my gaze to Taylor. Almost positive that he saw both Jorge and his thumbs up, I cringed inside as our eyes met.

"I won't tell."

Startled, I replied, "What?" Did he just see me get a thumbs-up by someone my husband black-listed?

"I am not going to tell the boss that I left you unattended. He's going to see all the bags in the back, he's going to ask about them. You helped me pick out the stuff for my kid. He'll be pissed if I shopped on the clock without his consent."

I nodded, getting into the swing of things. "I made you go shopping for your daughter. Blame me, tell him I suggested it. If there's a plushie in one of the bags, tell him I bought it for her."

With a smile, he said, "Yes, ma'am. Can do."

We drove home in silence. I didn't begrudge him driving my car. Although he didn't know it, he would be my ticket away from the sadist I married. As soon as we reached home, Taylor fetched all the bags from the car's trunk and carried them inside. I took my book-filled bag and went to a guest room. After pulling out the hollowed-out book, I quickly dug the cellphone from my bra and hid it. It lay with all the others on the white-lace duvet covered bed, and looked just as innocent as all the other works of literature. I could feel a smile split my face.

Arms wrapped around me from behind while my husband's mouth breathed heavily by my ear.

That alone was enough to wipe the emotion from my face. I sought to not betray either of the men who helped me today. "Just did a bit of book shopping today and I'm trying to decide what to read first and which gets priority on my top book shelf."

"You and your books," he murmered.

"You and your business." I spoke clearly, almost too loudly.

"Hey, I'm here with you right now. That has to count for something, right darling?"

The first thought to pop into my mind was that I had to buy clothes to hide the bruises he gave me today. Did I want him here right now with me? No. I'm just glad the mirror in this room is behind me so he couldn't have seen me put the cell inside it's hidey hole. I swallowed hard as the thought that maybe he did see, and that's why he's here right now entered my mind. Mustering as much testicular fortitude as I could, I turned around and faced my husband. "It does count for something." I offered a smile I didn't feel. "I spoke to Taylor about the companion I wish to get. He has been very helpful with the sort of qualifications I should seek. I think I can find someone even you would approve."

A genuine smile shone from Christian's face. "That is good news. I've got better news for you."

His hand reached out to cup my breast, and I settled into his grasp, thrilled that I had a chance to hide the phone before his hand touched its exact hiding spot. The hand trailed from my breast to my neck, which he grasped with what I was sure was just a hint of malice.

"If you want that companion, you're going to earn it."

I knew what that meant. A trip to the Magenta Room o'Torture. "Why? Why can't I have a bodyguard without being abused?"

His hands fell away from my body and he gave me a little shove. I fell forward onto my books while he stood before me. "You think I abuse you?" His hand on slim hips seemed a menacing pose.

"Yes. I do think you abuse me. Why else do I have to bargain for something you take for granted? Can I have a bodyguard? No? I have to be tormented first before you'll let me have one. That is what you basically just said. I had to go buy scarves and turtleneck shirts to hide the bruises on my neck—bruises you gave me because I disagreed with you. How long have you been seeing Dr. Flynn? Because please bring up at your next appointment the tendency you have in response to being challenged by someone who is not you." Knowing Taylor gave a fuck pretty much gave me a high and so I let loose all the stuff that had been clouding my mind. "I loved you, Christian. But I thought my love could change you in the ways Dr. Flynn seemed to fail. But you don't want to change. You want to bully. So if me getting a bodyguard of my own means I have to be tortured, then fine. I'll pay the piper, if the piper demands that payment."

The fists dropped from his hips and he sunk to his knees. "You really feel that way about me?" The tender child in his eyes was a lie—a manipulation he used too many times on me for me to whole-heartedly believe the hurt tone he used.

"Yes. You prove it time and again. I wish you didn't, but you do. You hurt me when I anger you." And I'm almost positive that he'd come up with a comeuppance for me having unloaded on him.

"I can change."

"Can you really? You've said it many times before, and yet here we are."

"I will change. I'll show you, baby."

And in the pit of my heart, I knew it would be superficial at best. He loved nothing more than power, and after having such a heady mistress, I knew deep down he could never give her up.


End file.
